So, this is a little different. I just had this idea, a little lighthearted story about a moderately incompetent and softhearted demon trying to make his way in this world full of individuals seeking to do him harm. So, I wrote up a bit of it, sharing a little intro into his first evening in our world. It’s definitely different than other offerings here. I don’t have a clear plot or direction, and will probably use this as a piece to return to for fun. But, I find the character interesting and have quite a few adventures in mind for him. Just thought I’d share. With you, my mostly nonexistent audience…
Zerushabael was a demon, born and raised in the pits of hell and only lately released on the unsuspecting mortal world. Only Zerushabael was not very good at the whole dark and demonic thing. If asked, he would describe his childhood and early life as pure torture. The sunshine, fresh air, and marked absence of sulfurous emissions made the surface earth paradise—or as close to paradise as Zerushabael would ever get. You’d be surprised the places that still upheld separate but equal.
This new body was stiff. But, Zerushabael was quite satisfied with it. He was tall, muscular, dark eyed with closely cropped dark hair and deliciously chocolate skin. Oh yes, he liked this body. He did also feel bad, as he could feel Michael fighting against him. No matter how he tried to reassure the recently evicted man, it fell on deaf ears. Zerushabael did not like the whole “host” arrangement, but unlike most of his brothers and cousins, he did not try to torture or harm the poor mind living with him. He imagined them eventually becoming congenial roommates, though Michael seemed utterly resistant to the idea. Zeru was sure he’d come around.
Zeru struggled to stand from the alley where he and Michael first met, but found that legs were far more difficult contraptions to work than he thought. Sure, the motor strip was responding effectively, but balancing that with the cerebellum, sensory strip, and subcortical structures had him lumbering about like a drunken sailor. Oh well, he surmised, at least no one would question as he stumbled out of the alley and onto the nighttime streets. Maybe Michael could give him lessons later.
Now, where was home? The whole fleeing hell and possessing a host had really worn him out. Fortunately, Zeru had paid careful attention in his human studies courses and felt his pockets for a wallet. As promised, the license picture was a hideous caricature of his current host, but it did include an address to an apartment somewhere in the city. The presence of a license and car keys in his pocket assured Zeru that he did have a car available, but given the incomprehensible complexity of merely walking, something most humans learned while still infants, he decided it might be a bit premature to get behind the wheel. Sure, he could give Michael control, but right now he was too busy muttering about churches and priests to be trusted. Zeru was just getting comfortable and was sure that, given time, Michael would calm down and warm up to the arrangement. Surely.
The walk was a long one, but it gave him time to get used to his legs. By the time they reached the building, he had acquired what he was told humans referred to as “c-legs.” It was a baffling term, but humans were baffling things. Now, Zeru realized he had a new challenge. Stairs.
It was not pretty, nor graceful, and most of the time Michael’s body flopped up and down the stairs like a beached fish. However, Zeru made it to the sixth floor successfully with only minor scrapes and bruises. The neighbors were likely unhappy with the clanging and banging up the rails, but there was nothing to be done. Of course, the challenges of the night were not done, as Zeru now had to struggle with his multi-jointed fingers and a tiny key. He began to wonder if this whole possession thing was even worth it. Maybe, Zeru mused, he was better off in the pits of tar and flame (metaphorical ones, of course).
“A little too much fun, Mikey?” he heard a lilting voice behind him. He turned to see a beautiful human female, sculpted into delicate curves and smiles, a laundry basket balanced precariously on her hip. Oh, Lust would have a field day, he chuckled to himself. Michael was enraged, terrified, and screaming. Zeru tried to calm him, assure the host that no harm would come to this woman, but again Michael simply refused to listen to reason. Humans could be so irrational.
Zeru smiled, his face feeling foreign and rubbery. The woman laughed, and nodded before sweeping in and unlocking the door for him. Zeru wanted to speak, to ask her to come in for a nightcap and a little fun, but he realized that his tongue, mouth, lips, palate, throat, and lungs were not quite ready to work in sync just yet. He smiled his lopsided grin again, looking every part the drunk she suspected of him, and watched her duck into her apartment just down the hall. Oh yes, he was in paradise for sure. Zeru closed the door, fell into bed, and dreamed of beautiful women and coordinated limbs.
This work by Katherine C is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.